


Of Dark Dissent - Book One

by Xetera



Series: Of Dark Dissent [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Dark, Demon Powers, Dreams and Nightmares, Horror, M/M, Magic, Out of Character, Phasmophobia AU, Psychic Abilities, Slice of Life, Supernatural Elements, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27291841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xetera/pseuds/Xetera
Summary: It would be reasonable for humans not to seek out the most haunted, infernal places on Earth.Perhaps it's a good thing that these four were neither reasonable nor human- with the exception of Karl.The ghost George, the medium Karl, the demon Punz, and the incubus Sapnap are far from professionals, but they take on ghost hunting with a passion.-Phasmophobia AU
Relationships: Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Series: Of Dark Dissent [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992703
Comments: 103
Kudos: 202





	1. Finally a New One

**Author's Note:**

> Strap in folks, this is going to be a long one.  
> Happy Halloween Eve >:)

One would assume that a human that spent enough time with supernatural creatures would grow used to it.

One would be wrong.

At least it’s just as novel for the creatures themselves.

The days before an investigation were always the hardest. None of them would admit it, but the thrill of a good haunting had become addictive. The four were undeniably in their element amidst a dark cabin or an abandoned hospital.

Currently, the group is getting antsy waiting on an appointment. Punz is triple-checking their gear in the back while Karl and Sapnap wait, leaning against the wall. George had moved to the roof of the van to meditate and escape their resident demon’s angry muttering.

“This whole house call thing we’re doing is fucking ridiculous. I told you guys, we’re better off scouting out our own spots,” Punz says.

“Some of us don’t have a job,” Karl mutters.

“Can we be mindful of the smokin' hot human in the room?” Sapnap says. Karl rolls his eyes and elbows him in the side.

“Can’t he start working again? I know he’s a part of the team now, but we can’t all change our routine for him,” Punz says.

“You compromised for me,” George says, appearing inside.

“Jesus!” Sapnap flinches.

“You’ve got to stop doing that,” Punz says.

George ignores them, sitting on the office chair.

“You two took me in and adapted for me. Karl’s been with us for over a month now. It shouldn’t be any different because he’s mortal. I was, once,” George says.

They all go quiet at that. Punz sighs, throwing some equipment into a backpack.

“Let’s just hope this is a real call and not some bullshit fake ghost story,” he says. He gives a quick glance at his watch. “The owner was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. I say we just start setting up.”

Everyone else shrugs and follows his lead, gathering up their supply bags. On the whiteboard is their list of tasks.

_Collect ghost writing_

_Take a photo of the spirit_

_Cleanse the area_

The distance is shrouded in fog, the moon looming ominously above. It’s a thickly wooded area up in the mountains, a long drive from the city, as picturesque as it is mysterious. The cabin looks run-down and decrepit- it had all the makings of a proper rift in the veil.

They enter, taking in the layout of the house. All the furniture is covered in a thin layer of dust, couches covered in sheets.

“Karl, are you picking up anything?” Sapnap asks.

He closes his eyes for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

“There’s… I’m definitely feeling something. Something weird. Second floor,” Karl says.

“Keep us updated,” Sapnap replies, giving his hand an appreciative squeeze.

After they make their way up, the group splits and begins setting up cameras like clockwork. The moment he’s done unloading supplies, Sapnap walks back towards the stairs.

“If you guys are good up here, I’m gonna head back to the van to watch cams,” he says.

“Pussy,” Punz says under his breath.

“It’s creepy in there, dickhead,” Sapnap shouts over the walkie-talkie.

Punz flips off a camera with a smirk. Decidedly finished preparing, he claps his hands together and calls the attention of the others.

“Well, gang, this should be a cut-and-dry job. We take some readings, snap a picture, burn some herbs, and we’re out. Simple, but it could’ve been worse,” he says.

Karl looks to them in uncertainty. “Usually the houses we visit are empty or have sheets on the furniture like this, but that’s because we broke in. Why is _this_ house-”

Punz’s phone interrupts as it plays his ringtone.

“Dude, it’s the owner, shut up,” he says. “Hello? Yes, this is Luke. We’ve just started. We’re in the upstairs living room. Wh- Ma’am? Yes, we’re at the address. What? We already have our equipment set up, are you sure? Oh, that’s... fine, then.”

He twists his face in confusion, staring blankly at his phone as the hangup dial plays.

“She asked if it was too late for us to leave because she can’t make it. Also, she said it’s okay if we continue as long as we cleanse the house with the smudge-stick she left for us. Whatever. At least I get a break from disguising tonight,” Punz says.

He stretches out with a yawn, unfolding his wings. A pair of horns unsheath alongside his tail that furls out, pointed at the end. By the time he’s closed his mouth, a pair of fangs are jutting out over his upper lip.

“You’re so extra. Watch this guys!” George mocks. Dematerializing slowly until he’s completely invisible, he picks a random knickknack and tosses it from hand to hand, the thing appearing to float.

Punz reaches for it, nearly tripping over George’s feet.

“You can at least juggle or something,” Sapnap says over the walkie talkie.

George seems to take that as a challenge, grabbing a couple of things off a shelf and flinging them upwards, catching them clumsily. It’s about the bare minimum that could be considered juggling.

“Stop it, idiot. You’re gonna break something,” Punz chastizes.

“No, I-”

George fumbles and loses his grip, nearly dropping the thing. Karl manages to catch it before it hits the ground.

“Wow, who could have predicted this would happen? Dumbass,” Punz says sardonically, arms crossed.

“You almost broke this- this- what is this?” Karl asks, inspecting the thing in his hands.

“That’s a box,” George says.

“I know it’s a box, but what’s in it? There’s something in here,” Karl says.

“You didn’t use your psychic spiritual powers there. It’s a fucking box; of course there’s something inside,” Punz says.

“Maybe we shouldn’t look through the owner’s stuff? She was pretty hesitant to have us here anyway,” Sapnap says.

“Shut up. You’re not ‘here’ at all. You ditched us and went straight back to the van,” George says back.

While they fight amongst themselves, Karl is hyperfocused on the small, ornate chest in his hands. The sides seem to be made of faded, engraved wood, framed in leather on the edges. There’s energy radiating from inside. Karl opens it. Inside is a small, silver ring, burned on one side.

“Who gets an entire box just for a ring?” he asks no one in particular.

Punz swipes it from his hands, putting it back on the table where they found it.

“Stop touching her shit. It’s probably an old wedding ring or something. Can we focus?” he asks.

George immediately walks off with his digital thermometer, and Punz begins systematically checking each room for EMF charge. Karl peeks into a few other doors but is ultimately drawn back to the living room. A few objects around on tables and bookshelves catch his attention, but nothing seems to be objectively different there. It’s still eerie just how much the furniture looks like an exhibit. All else feels devoid of life as if the house were a shell, not a home.

“Is there anyone present with me?” he asks.

When the question leaves his mouth, it feels like the words are spit back into his face. Karl stumbles back a bit, surprised by the instant feedback. He’s not alone.

“I’m picking up EMF. Interesting, I didn’t even think this was a real call,” Punz calls out.

“Are you kidding? That house is creepy as shit. Does no one else find it sus that the owner won’t even come? Or that it looks like a fucking Addams family open house?” Sapnap says over the walkie-talkie.

“Except for this room. This room is- it feels occupied,” Karl says.

The other two return to meet him where he’s standing, dead center of the room. George pulls out his thermometer.

“Exactly ninety-eight point six.”

They all look to each other for answers. Each of them gives the same disconcerted expression. Hot temperatures are unusual, but this is unprecedented. George attempts to stay unshaken, despite the numbers glaring back at him. Exactly body temperature.

“There’s no movement on the cams. I think this is gonna take some provoking. You got it, Karl?” Sapnap asks.

Everyone spaces themselves out in the room, letting him take the center. He takes a deep breath, concentrating on the energy around him. The longer he stands there, the more he feels compelled to stay, as if a force is reaching from beneath the floorboards.

“If anyone is here, make yourself known,” he asks.

The room is silent, save for the breaths of the men standing there. None of them have to say it, but there’s a feeling of being watched hanging stagnant in the air. Still, there’s no response. Something is listening that refuses to reach back.

“It doesn’t want to speak. We need to get it more comfortable before we can get any evidence. Can you hand me the ouija board?” Karl asks.

Punz fishes it out of his backpack and hands it to him. They sit together in a circle on the floor, all hesitant to initiate conversation. 

As Karl delicately places his fingers on the planchette, it flies across the board and lands on the “no,” so forcibly that he almost falls over. The other two jerk back, Punz’s wings drawing closed defensively. George flashes invisible for a second in fear, clutching at his shirt.

“So much for unresponsive,” Punz says.

“Fuck, should I come back?” Sapnap asks.

“I’ve got it. You stay and keep doing surveillance,” Karl says.

He gets his wits about him, steadying his balance. If they want evidence, they need to push harder.

“Why have you chosen to reside here?” Karl asks.

The planchette stays fixed in place.

“Do you have anything you wish to say?” he continues.

Nothing.

The wind is howling outside, a stray tree branch scraping at the window like a clawed hand. Shadows are cast on the wall from the van’s headlights, forming looming tenebrous figures. None of them are strangers to dark houses and sinister presences, but this house doesn’t feel sinister. It’s eerily vacant, save for where they’re standing, like flies at the center of a spider’s web.

“Can you give us a sign?” Karl asks. When they get nothing, he looks to Punz with determination. “Get some incense and a journal. We’re getting an answer.”

Punz nods, bringing him the items and sitting back down. Karl lights the incense and opens the journal, leaving a black quill and inkwell nearby. He closes his eyes, tapping into every channel of spiritual energy available to him. Tuning into the streams of the world beyond like instinct, he reaches for a presence.

In the void, he feels something peering into his very being. Something decisive and resolute has a hold on him, its claws digging into his skin. For once, he can’t visualize the being on the other end, only images of the malevolent void filling his mind.

“Something’s wrong,” Karl says.

“I know the temperature and the vibes are kind of unusual, but it’s a routine haunting. We could do this in our sleep,” Punz says.

“Punz, he’s able to tap into some shit even George can’t. We should trust him,” Sapnap says.

“I could phase to the other side and check,” George offers.

The team collectively shout, “NO,” at once.

“We’re not pushing you to do that. I don’t want to be responsible if anything happens to you; it’s too dangerous. Let’s just get what we need and get out of here,” Punz says.

“That’s going to be hard with how stubborn this spirit is being,” Sapnap says.

“I think I know what needs to happen,” Karl says. The others turn to him expectantly. “Give me one minute alone. I can draw it out.”

“Absolutely not,” Sapnap says promptly.

Punz ignores that and gives Karl a solemn nod, gesturing for George to follow him out of the room. They stay close by, waiting at the stair landing. Sapnap watches the cameras with unease, getting goosebumps from the rustle of leaves outside the thin walls of the van.

Inside, Karl is sitting in the center of the room cross-legged. All the surrounding space is weighted by the feeling of watching eyes. He blows gently on the incense to encourage the flames.

“I am asking for anything you can give me. Please, make yourself known,” he says.

Suddenly, the room goes still, just as the grass settles in the eye of a storm. Everything is quiet before a far-off cacophony grows louder in his ear. It’s a discordant harmony of church organs and maniacal laughter, amalgamating into one disturbing melody. The smoke of the incense changes direction, the steady stream of gray splitting into two. Soon, a cloud pulls away and hovers in the shape of an arch, the flame dying out.

“Hello..?” Karl calls out into the dark. 

His voice is strained as if the wind has been knocked from his lungs. Sapnap is saying something over the radio, but the message is skewed with static, the words unintelligible. Karl’s hands go numb at his sides as the smoke starts to take shape, morphing into something before him.

“Karl? Is everything okay?” George asks.

The pages of the journal become soaked with ink as it disappears from the inkwell, except for an arch with two crude circles beneath it, leaving a strange symbol. A few stray tears wet the paper from eyes that Karl just now realized had welled up. Chills run down his spine, echoing the feeling that someone- no- some _thing_ is staring back from the strange cloud of smoke.

His throat nearly closed, all Karl can do is utter a hoarse whisper.

“What- what _are_ you?”

The vague outline of facial features forms in the wispy fog, the cloud creeping towards him. As his ears adjust, the sound of Punz banging on the door slowly fills the space. Karl snaps back to the present, fumbling for his camera. He snaps a shaky photograph of the face in the smoke, stumbling to get to his feet. The moment he’s off the ground, The room goes silent, and the shapes dissipate into mist, a hush falling over the house.

A raspy, chilling voice emerges from the emptiness, right into his ear.

“ _Finally. A new one_.”

The door to the living room bursts open, Punz breaking it off its hinges. Sapnap rushes into the room, taking Karl in his arms and holding on for dear life.

“Are you okay? Fuck, Karl, I’m so sorry,” he says, running fingers through his hair.

“I’m- I’m- I don’t-” Karl stutters.

“Jesus, man, I wasn’t expecting that. It’s been a while since we’ve dealt with that kind of activity,” Punz says.

“No shit! We don’t go on demon hunts anymore. I’m not getting my fucking boyfriend killed,” Sapnap yells.

“That wasn’t a demon,” George says.

They all turn to him.

“It wasn’t,” Karl says. “I- I don’t- I’ve never seen something like that before. What it did to the journal, I-”

“What are you talking about?” Punz asks.

Karl turns around and stares blankly at the open book behind him. The only remaining imprint is the word “wait” written across both pages, and the inkwell beside him is once again full.

“Sapnap, please tell me you saw what I saw on the cams,” Karl begs.

“The moment I saw the incense go out with you frozen there, I came back into the house. George couldn’t phase through the wall and the door was locked,” Sapnap says.

“I got something, though! I got a picture!” Karl says.

He shows the others his camera and the hazy image he captured.

“That’s creepy,” George says, squinting at the uncanny features.

“That’s the closest we’re getting to a picture, I guess. And this single word technically counts as ghost writing. If we cleanse the place now, we’ve gotten everything we need,” Punz says frankly.

“Are we ignoring the weird-ass vibes this entire house call has had since the beginning? And whatever the fuck just happened in this room that, according to the medium and, oh yeah, fucking _ghost_ , wasn’t even a demon?” Sapnap asks.

“Punz is right, though. What was the point of this if we don’t even get paid for it?” George says.

Sapnap opens his mouth to argue, but Karl grabs him by the hand, shaking his head.

“Let’s just get this over with and get out of here. I could use a bath right now,” Karl says.

“Okay. The smudge sticks she left are over here,” Punz says, proceeding with the task.

He lights the bundle with his fingertips, the end glowing in the dark. The air is hit with a thick, putrid odor that’s an attack on the senses, Karl lifting his sweater over his nose. Punz looks to the smudge stick in confusion, bringing it closer for a whiff.

“That is fucking _vile_ ,” Sapnap says, grimacing at the smell.

“For once, I’m lucky in not having any senses,” George chuckles.

Punz smothers the flame by crushing the thing in his fist. Once the fire is out, he tears apart the string binding it together, looking through the dried herbs. He picks away at the outer layer of white sage, revealing a small bundle of items inside. At the end that was burning is a dried, black substance.

“If this wasn’t entering weird territory before, it definitely is now,” Sapnap says.

Eyebrows knit in aversion, Punz ties it back together, pocketing the remains of the smudge stick.

“Why are you-”

“This seems like it was a bust. Let’s get out of here,” Punz interrupts.

He leads them back out the front door, Sapnap squeezing Karl’s hand in assurance, which he greatly appreciates. As the adrenaline empties from his system, he’s left feeling drained and vaguely anxious. Punz has taken on an expression that Karl has never seen before, not to this degree. This is odd, considering very little shook the man, and he hadn’t batted an eye at any of the other strange occurrences. He figures that Punz’s definition of “strange” as a former demon of hell must be different, though. Too tired to pursue that train of thought any further, Karl sinks into the comforting weight of Sapnap’s body, leaning against him as they descend the flight of stairs.

When they open the front door, lying on the porch is a small white envelope. Punz picks it up, ripping it open with a claw. He pulls out a stack of bills, blinking at it in confusion. Looking around, there’s no one else there, not even a light around for miles.

“This is… interesting,” George says, inspecting the cash.

“We’re fucking out of here. I hated every second of tonight. We are going home and sleeping in until the fucking weekend,” Sapnap says.

Punz doesn’t comment, tucking the envelope into his pocket and staring off at the horizon with an unreadable expression.

The group piles into the van, no one truly having any words for what occurred. Sapnap and George give a few half-hearted attempts at banter, all of which eventually fall flat under the weight of the night’s events. The ride home is long, Sapnap swapping the driver’s spot to take breaks and sit by Karl in the back. He holds him protectively, thumb soothingly running over his fingers. It’s enough to comfort Karl at the moment, but the overarching sense of dread won’t shake from his mind.

“We’re gonna go home, have a bath, and watch a cartoon or something, okay? Hey, I haven’t seen Gravity Falls yet. We can make hot cocoa. That sound good?” Sapnap whispers softly.

Karl nods, burrowing into his shoulder. The rhythm of the tires catching the pavement lull him into a tired state. Before closing his eyes, the last thing Karl sees is Punz gripping the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road. 

In his head still linger the phantom echoes of a voice so abnormally familiar, so chilling that it’s all that occupies his mind. The grim omen leaves him with the intrusive thought that something he can’t quite name is going to happen, or maybe, it’s just begun.


	2. If There's Ever a Time

Following the stresses of their most recent house call, the gang decides to take a well-deserved break. As men do, none of them further discuss what happened that night, content in moving on to whatever other topics they can find. All of them still enjoy hanging out, even if every conversation is spent willfully ignorant of the elephant in the room. 

The group lounge in Punz’s garage, shooting the breeze. An onlooker would have no idea that Karl had only been around for a month with how comfortably he fit in. He may still feel sidelined by Punz, who was indifferent towards him at best, but there was a sense of companionship among them.

“Are we doing anything today?” George asks.

“Eh. I have an errand. Didn’t have anything planned,” Punz says.

“We should go on an errand day,” Karl says.

“It’s not anything fun. I just have to make a run to the store,” he replies.

“I’m sure we can make it fun,” Sapnap says.

“Whatever. If you guys die of boredom, it’s on you,” Punz shrugs.

The group piles into his car and heads towards the supermarket, the three playing up the excitement of their pseudo-outing. Punz ignores the protests of not taking the van.

“We’re not the fucking Scooby-Doo gang.”

“If you were a real fan, you’d know they’re called Mystery Incorporated!” Karl objects.

“I’m pretty proud of myself for  _ not _ knowing that,” Punz replies.

He pulls into a parking spot, and they file out like clowns from a clown car. The actual store itself is lackluster- nothing more than fluorescent lights and relatively clean linoleum tiles. 

Still, they’re determined to make a day out of it.

“You all tagged along with me, so you better not complain. And I’m enforcing my no-sweets policy since last time Sapnap managed to sneak an entire sheet cake into my cart,” Punz says.

“If you didn’t notice me scanning an entire sheet cake at checkout, that’s kinda on you,” Sapnap says.

“Trueee,” Karl adds.

“George, you haven’t been annoying recently. You get a pass,” Punz says.

“That’s not fair! George doesn’t eat. Those privileges are wasted on him!” Karl argues.

“I  _ could _ eat. I won’t, but I could,” George says. “I just don’t feel like throwing up undigested deserts.”

“Ugh. C’mon Karl, let’s go explore,”

They race to the other end of the store, George going his own direction. Punz sighs, pushing his cart towards the produce section. 

Finding a secluded area, George takes to the baking aisle. Not being alive means an incredible amount of boredom, so filling the time with hobbies is essential. After tiring of jigsaw puzzles, chess, and paint by numbers, baking seems like a sound alternative.

George picks out a ceramic pie tin and a couple of cans of filling. He makes sure not to get too much, figuring he’ll give up on baking after a while anyway.

“I’m so sorry, excuse me,” someone says behind him. “My son keeps trying to steer.”

He turns to see a woman picking up her child and putting him in a shopping cart.

“Sorry, what?” George asks.

“I- wh- I just wanted to apologize for hitting you with the cart. What do we say?” She says to her son.

“Sorry,” he mumbles half-heartedly from the cart seat.

“Oh, it’s fine. Didn’t feel it,” George says.

He makes a mental note to be more aware of his surroundings. It would do best not to repeat when he had to explain to a frightened driver why he did not, in fact, mind being run over.

At least he didn’t accidentally become invisible and send someone into cardiac arrest. Again.

Beyond the baking aisle, Sapnap and Karl are stopped in front of the glass displays at the butchery. The pair gawk at the cuts of meat like children at a museum, much to the annoyance of the employee working at the counter.

“Ooh ooh, do you give samples?” Sapnap asks.

The clerk stares back incredulously.

“Samples… of the raw meat?”

“Oh. It sounds stupid when you put it like that,” Sapnap replies.

“Or maybe you’re just stupid,” Karl giggles.

“Oh yeah? I’m stupid? I’m stupid, huh?” Sapnap says, tickling his sides and sending him into a laughing fit.

“Okay, okay, enough! I know you only wanted to get something gross so you could throw it at me or something,” Karl says.

“Yeah, you know it,” Sapnap replies, making phony kissing noises at him.

“...Is there anything I can help you with, then?”

They turn back to the counter, remembering they’re in public.

“Punz did say no sweets. Nothing is preventing us from getting several pounds of raw meat,” Sapnap says.

“He’s going to notice  _ several pounds of raw meat _ . What I can do is buy some myself and open it in the car,” Karl says.

“I like the way you think,” Sapnap smirks.

“What do you have in the disgusting, smelly meat department?” Karl asks the clerk.

“Well, meat shouldn’t smell unless it’s rotten, so I can’t help you there. For ‘gross,’ you could probably work with pig’s feet, tongues, chicken hearts, offal,” he says.

“What’s awful?” Karl asks.

“Offal. All the organs. Some use it for dishes, but we also have some dried as dog treats.”

Karl looks to the dried offal on display, and for a second, time stops. 

The dark, almost charred entrails take him out of his body, out of this moment. It looks familiar, enough that he knows where he’s seen it before, but can’t bring himself to go back to that memory.

A scene plays in his head like a projector. He’s brought back to that room, that reaching from below, the blaring noises, the peering eyes in the smoke.

“What are we thinking, Karl?”

He whips his head back around to Sapnap, pulling him out of his trance a bit. No matter how much he tells himself he’s here, the fun, lighthearted air about the day is shattered, and he’s forced back into that house.

Karl doesn’t have to test it to know- the image of the dark, dried substance stuck with him just as much as the smell.

Two pairs of eyes are looking at him expectantly, so he gathers himself back up and returns to the moment.

“Pigs feet. Definitely,” Karl says.

Sapnap can sense the edge to his voice, Karl knows it, but he isn’t commenting on it. Instead, he nods his head and orders half a pound of pig’s feet.

“Can you ring me up here? Thank you.”

The pair walk away with their spoils to go cause trouble somewhere else. Refusing to let his small panic worry his boyfriend, Karl musters up his best smile and drowns the thought out.

He lives by the idea that everything has a time and a place- and this isn’t either. That doesn’t stop the anxiety from sticking with him.

On the other end of the store, Punz is stood by the spices holding a crumpled shopping list. He scans the shelves, squinting at a row of bottles.

“Where the fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

There’s someone behind him- he can smell cheap detergent and perfume approaching- and he turns to see an employee walking past.

“Hey, do you know where I can find rose water?” Punz asks.

“That will be two aisles down that way,” she says.

“Great, thanks,” Punz says.

He grabs a bottle of rosemary from the spice rack before heading off. The rose water is only about eight ounces, but he figures he’s fine taking a couple. The employee gives him a funny look as he walks past with his weird assortment of items.

Next, he’s off to the kitchenware, getting as many glass bottles as he can get without looking like a maniac. In trying to pile them into his cart, he accidentally drops a jar, the glass shattering on the floor.

“Shit.”

An employee is rounding the corner, most likely to see what idiot broke something. Punz starts picking up the glass shards, figuring there’s no point in making their probably shitty job any harder. 

She glances between the pile of glass jars and various spices in his cart and the broken jar on the floor. At that moment, she must have realized he was picking up the pieces himself because she immediately approaches with her hands up.

“Sir- you don’t need to do that-” she stutters.

Punz looks up from where he’s crouched. It’s the same employee from before.

“It’s fine, I got it. Where’s the nearest trash can?” he asks.

She looks at him, puzzled, then leaves and returns with a bin. Scraping it off his hand, he throws away the broken glass, digging a small shard from his palm without flinching.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

The poor kid looks shaken, staring at his hand that doesn’t have even a mark.

“I, uh, have pretty thick skin. I’ll just… get out of your hair,” Punz says, figuring he frightened her enough.

He has all of the items he needed, so all there is left to do is gather the band of idiots back together so they can go. Punz gets a whiff of monster energy and Sapnap’s brand of cologne from the same direction that he hears obnoxious laughter.

Eventually, he spots them by the produce where Sapnap is holding a pair of watermelons to his chest. Punz isn’t sure which is more stupid- that or the fact that Karl genuinely finds it funny.

“Guys, I’ve got what I need. You know where George is?”

“Dunno. What did you get?” Sapnap asks.

“Stuff. What is that?” Punz asks.

Karl hides the bag behind him.

“Nothin. But, if I did have something, I would have already paid for it,” he says.

“Sure,” Punz says skeptically. “Can someone find George?”

“Right here.”

The three turn around to see him holding a basket of baking supplies.

“Are we set?” George asks.

“...Yeah,” Punz replies.

Heading to checkout, everything is dumped onto the conveyor, the cashier too bored to judge the items he’s scanning. Punz eyes the couple giggling while he pays. He’s more interested in getting home than looking into whatever mischief those two are probably causing- and odds are, he’ll figure out eventually.

Eventually comes sooner than later, or more precisely, when they get in the car.

“Hey, Punz, can you turn on the air recirculation thing?” Sapnap asks.

“Sure?” he replies.

Making sure the windows are shut, Karl tosses the open bag from the butcher onto the dashboard.

“Karl!” George yells, stifling a laugh.

“Jesus, bad idea, I take it back- that’s so gross-” Sapnap chuckles.

While they’re laughing and making faces, one by one, they slowly notice Punz’s hardened expression.

Without a word, Punz undoes his seatbelt, opens the door, grabs the bag, and leaves. They watch him walk to the nearest trashcan and throw it out before coming back. Once he’s seated, he turns off the air conditioner and turns around to the backseat.

“What made you think this would be funny?”

Karl looks like a deer in the headlights, utterly confused. Sapnap is nervously laughing.

“What? It’s- it’s just gross- and we thought-”

“You know how I feel about-!” Punz raises his voice before stopping himself.

His eyes have gone black, white irises glowing harshly, a puff of steam pouring from his nose. Punz chews on his lip and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I didn’t think it would…” Sapnap says apologetically. “It’s from a pig; I didn’t think it would trigger-”

“Don’t say ‘trigger,’ it’s not- Look, I don’t like it. You know I don’t. So just don’t… don’t do it again,” Punz sighs.

He starts the car, the humming engine the only sound.

“Don’t look like a kicked puppy, Karl. It’s not your fault. It’s not Sapnap’s either. I don’t like being loud and angry, okay. Let’s just… get going.”

Karl looks to Sapnap with concern. Sapnap opens his phone notepad and types for a bit before showing it to him.

_ he doesnt like to see gore _

_ because of his old job _

_ down there _

Karl mouths a solemn, “oh.”

Attempting to ease the air, George turns on the radio and lets some cheesy pop music play in the background. It looks like a sitcom that’s played the wrong track for a somber scene. Finally, the car reaches the house, and George helps Punz carry the bags inside.

As they put everything onto the table, Punz notices him staring expectantly.

“What?”

“I can hear you thinking from here,” George says.

Punz groans.

“I fucking hate it. It shouldn’t take so little. It was fucking pig feet. It’s not a big deal,” he says.

“Just because something shouldn’t be doesn’t mean it isn’t,” George says.

“That’s one confusing-ass sentence,” Punz remarks.

“Shut up. You get it.”

“Yeah.”

Punz stands at the counter with his fists balled-up. George gives him time to sort his thoughts.

“Do you know how much it sucks to feel like everyone is just tippy-toeing? Like I’m some bomb that’s gonna go off?” Punz asks.

The question is rhetorical, but it still has George genuinely considering it.

“I don’t like looking into someone’s eyes and seeing how afraid of me they are. I hate it. Some shred of hope in me thinks I’ll stop seeing that someday,” he says.

“You’re more than where you came from, you know,” George says.

“No. I’m not,” Punz says bluntly. “And I’m fine with that. I try to do good. That’s all that matters.”

George doesn’t fight him on that; he simply nods and watches him walk out the door.

Outside, Punz goes to say a quick goodbye to the others before they leave.

“Thanks for, uh, coming with me today. You guys always try to make even the most boring shit more fun. I appreciate it,” Punz says.

He gives each of them a bro-hug and a half-smile, offering amends as much as he knows how. Sapnap, knowing him for as long as he has, nods in understanding. A heartfelt smile from Punz is equivalent to a full-body hug, and it’s fully appreciated.

“I. I’m. Sorr-”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Punz,” Sapnap says.

Karl doesn’t speak, but he gives an “mhm” in agreement.

When he comes back inside, he watches the van pull out of the driveway. George has finished putting away his new baking supplies, now leaning on the counter.

“You staying here tonight?” Punz asks.

“No. I’ll probably walk around downtown. Don’t feel like fake-sleeping,” George replies.

“Alright,” Punz says. “Oh, do you have a basket, by the way? Or anything like that?”

“Basket? No, I don’t think so,” George says.

“Hm. I need something at least somewhat nice to put this in.”

Punz has everything he bought laid out- the rosewater, glass jars, and spices, which have been emptied from their plastic containers into decorated tins.

“What’s all that for?” George asks.

“It’s a gift,” Punz says. He glances at the spread again. “Well, it’s more of an offering. It’s easier to ask something of a friend when you come bearing gifts.”

“You have friends?” George teases.

“Hah hah, very funny. Seriously, yeah, believe it or not,” Punz chuckles.

“Whatever you say. Anyways, I’m going off. See you in the morning, maybe,” George says.

“See ya.”

He doesn’t bother to open the door, phasing clean through and leaving the house quiet. Punz is alone, left staring out the window with a glazed-over look. Finished watching the outside, he checks his phone for confirmation, making certain that the number is there.

Surely enough, it’s there, at the end of his list.

** Contacts **

** A&R Witch Dudes **

** B Halo Guy **

** EMERGENCIES ONLY **

** S Blood Guy **

** W Magic Guy **

Punz hasn’t really contacted any of them for years. If there’s ever a time, it’s now.

He taps on the last name and hits dial.


	3. Shut Up and Party

“There’s no way we’re doing this again.”

Sapnap is glaring at Punz, arms crossed, ready to go off on a tirade. They’re all standing outside the van, their gear packed and ready for another job.

“Hey, I gave him the okay. Stop worrying,” Karl says.

“You- you’re okay with this?” Sapnap says, unconvinced.

Placing a hand on his arm, Karl looks at him earnestly.

“I wouldn’t let him get hurt,” Punz says. “You know that Saph-”

“Sapnap,” he says sharply.

Karl looks between them, puzzled.

“Sapnap. Sorry,” Punz corrects himself.

Before Karl can ask, Sapnap is leading him into the van with Punz getting in the driver’s seat.

“Only because I trust you,” he says to Punz. Sapnap is slightly wounded- no, distraught. 

Karl definitely heard that. 

what the fuck do i say to him

Karl is biting his nail, on the verge of asking without wanting to cross a line. Instead, he gives Sapnap a smile, a silent promise not to push his boundaries.

look at his cute puppy eyes. why does my boyfriend have to be so understanding

With the tension of the past few days, that look has been going around lately. Thankfully, the group had their investigative work to throw themselves into. Sapnap takes the van onto the road to the address of their client.

The place in question is significantly less sketchy than the previous dark cabin in the middle of nowhere. However-

“An apartment? How do you have a haunting in an apartment?” Karl asks.

“You can’t have second story living rooms in an apartment, which is an improvement. Should be easy,” Punz says.

“Isn’t that what you said last time?” Sapnap says.

“We can stop talking about last time,” George says. “That was an anomaly. It probably won’t happen again.”

“I won’t let it happen again. We’ll be safe this time. I’ll take the lead,” Punz says.

They walk up to the entrance of the mock-upscale building, a monolith of worn brickwork rising up from the gum-stuck sidewalk. Nestled between an office complex and a newly constructed condominium- the last non renovated building on the block. Next to the door is a bronze plaque with years worth of grime crusting over the gaps between the letters. There’s some comfort to be found in the surrounding urban highrises and whirring traffic.

i always forget how loud it is this close to downtown

When Punz texts the tenant to buzz them in, they insist on meeting them at the entrance. When the door opens, a weary-looking college kid is on the other side.

“... Um. Hi. Parker. They/them,” The tenant says, extending a hand.

“I’m Luke. This is Nick, George, and Karl. Uh, he/him,” Punz says. Parker gives a tired smile at that, appreciative of the courtesy, but clearly tense. They look between the four men unsurely.

“It’s a one-bedroom… I was under the impression that it would be three of you? Something about someone staying in your van?” Parker asks.

Sapnap shoots Punz a knowing glare.

“We had to park the van about twenty miles away. We can make it work,” Punz says.

“I don’t take up much space,” George says. Karl giggles at that until Sapnap elbows him.

“Well, come in. My roommates are waiting out back, and my landlord gave the okay. They’re all just as fed up with this ghost as I am,” Parker says.

“Did they have the same experiences with the spirit?” Punz asks.

“Yes. My landlord didn’t believe us at first, but she questioned us individually and corroborated our stories. She didn’t want to do anything, but it started ruining the plumbing, breaking cabinets. I suggested we contact a professional, so… that’s where we’re at.

They lead them into an elevator with a now-defunct scissor gate out front.

“I did research into the building,” Punz says. “Former hotel built circa nineteen-thirties, this became the site of a suicide by a local aspiring actress in the fifties. The owner tried to monopolize on that as a haunted attraction a few years after.”

“Even in death she was exploited by the entertainment industry. Real fucked world. No wonder this place is haunted,” Parker says.

“Surprisingly enough, there was no reported ghost activity until about a month after the attraction closed. There were also three other documented deaths, two of those from the elevator we’re currently in,” Punz says.

They glance around the elevator, lines of concern creasing their forehead.

“In one case the operator wasn’t on duty, and she tried to use the control panel to open the gate, which caused the elevator to come down and remove the entire limb,” Punz continues.

“Shit, that’s- you really don’t think about that kind of stuff. I use this elevator almost every day, I never imagined… Jesus,” Parker says, simply shaking their head.

“The thing about unrestful spirits is that they tend to snowball. The more deaths, the more collectively active it gets. Hence, your resident cabinet-breaker,” Punz says.

As a group, they pile into Parker’s apartment and follow along on a tour. For an old place, it’s relatively nice- no wonder they have two roommates. It must cost an arm and a leg to be this close to the heart of downtown.

im surprised they arent rooming with more

Punz is taking notes and getting a thorough rundown of the ghost’s behavior, meanwhile, Sapnap starts unfolding tripods. Karl takes out the evidence journal and walks over to George, but Punz stops them.

“I can handle most of the investigation. You guys just get set up,” he says.

“You sure? It’s no problem,” Karl says.

“I wasn’t asking.”

the fuck

“You’re benching the g-” Sapnap looks to the Parker, who is standing right there. “You’re benching the two people with direct communication to spirits?”

“Yeah. I’ve been doing this since the sixties, I got it,” Punz says.

They laugh, quickly stifling it with a cough. 

“Sorry, that was- it was funny,” Parker says.

“Anything else we should know? Anything specific you want us to do?” Punz asks.

“Honestly? I just want confirmation. Some solid evidence- EMF, temperatures, knowing what’s there. Having someone else witness something concrete would help so much,” Parker says.

“Got it. You said the kitchen and bathroom were hotspots. Karl, can we confirm?” Punz asks.

“Oh yeah. It's been hard to focus since we came in- it’s strong. I got chills the moment I stepped through the doorway. The kitchen especially,” Karl says.

“Great. You and Nick take readings in the bathroom, George can help me in the kitchen,” Punz says. He has his “not up for debate” voice on.

It would be easy to be combative and try his patience. Sapnap, however, knows the balance of Punz’s patience is tenuous at best, and he’s under the same if not more stress as they are. Begrudgingly, Sapnap mumbles an affirmation and follows Karl to the bathroom.

“I didn’t tell them where the bathroom was,” Parker says.

“Is the presence that strong there?” George asks.

They nod.

“He can tell.”

Parker blinks at him, tumult heavy on their brow. They look as if they haven't slept in ages, clearly relieved that the ghost is being addressed, but slightly disquieted by the people addressing it. Punz is definitely more unbothered by being weird than the others are, though. Such is being from elsewhere.

There’s a knock at the front door.

“Oh, that’s Liv, my roommate. She wanted to be present for the investigation,” Parker says.

They invite in a very frightened-looking girl, incredibly out of place for someone in her own apartment. 

“Hello. I’m Luke, that’s George,” he says.

When Punz offers to shake her hand, she takes it guardedly, apparently bothered to be here.

“... Liv. Are you two the investigation team?” she asks.

“We have two more in the other room,” George says.

“It’s just- you guys look our age,” she says.

“I’m a lot younger than I look,” Punz says.

Liv takes in the room, staying watchful. If Parker looked afraid, she’s something else entirely. Liv has the look of a former skeptic who’s been forced to face the otherworldly and didn’t handle it well.

For a while, there’s a weighted silence, the roommate watching Punz and George adjust the cameras with antsy curiosity.

“How many of you are there again?” she asks.

“Karl and Nick are in the bathroom right now. So it’s four of us,” Punz says.

“So… how did you guys get into paranormal investigation?” Liv asks.

“I started by myself. It was just me and Nick for a long time,” Punz says.

“I tried to look into this kind of stuff once it started happening. There’s way more to it than the movies make it seem. Though I suppose it helps to have someone who’s… connected to that world,” Parker says.

“Karl and I are basically half the equipment,” George says.

“Oh, you’re… psychics?” Liv asks, askance.

“Mediums,” Punz says abruptly. He looks at George, unamused.

“That’s interesting. Sorry, it’s just- it’s so relieving to talk about this like it’s real. Like it’s not all in our heads,” Parker says.

The lights around them flicker, the electricity buzzing.

“Speaking of real,” Punz says. “George, EMF?”

“It just spiked. We’re in the red,” George says.

“Oh god, it- it’s- the- it’s here, isn’t it?” Liv asks.

“It always was. Ghosts don’t usually leave, they just drift in and out of our realm of observation. It’s probably been walking next to you and you didn’t even know it,” George says.

“Usually investigators showing up and poking around are enough to provoke ‘em. If you wanted proof, don’t worry; you’ll get it,” Punz says.

Parker swallows, fists balled up. The lights settle down, leaving the kitchen dark. A draft sweeps through the room, almost sounding like a whisper. Punz passes George the thermometer- the room is freezing.

“Hm. George, bring the UV. I have a hunch.”

Now that the sun has dipped below the horizon, the room is doused in pitch-black, save for the dim purplish light. Punz gives the room a sweep, with a focus on handles and switches. As he shines the UV light on the cabinet doors, there are forceful handprints and clawing patterns all along the surface. The two tenants look completely on edge.

“None of us have touched the cabinets since- since-” Parker stutters.

“I remember the first time Parks told me there were ghosts I laughed. When I saw the cabinets slamming open and closed, open and closed, all on their own; I didn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. I still can’t- I can’t- Oh god-”

“Breathe. It’s okay,” Punz consoles her.

“I was so excited to finally prove that it’s here, but fuck if it’s not terrifying,” Parker says.

“Everything is flooding back. The noises, the doors locking, the power going out, and then that- that- that  _ thing _ with it’s dead fucking face-” Liv’s breathing quickens.

George has a far-off expression on his face. Punz does his best to calm her down, Liv’s hands shaking and clammy. Parker is chewing their lip, arms folded, trying to keep it together.

“I think I know what we’re dealing with, I just need to document and photograph everything. What I can tell you is that you’re safe as long as we’re here, I promise,” he says.

“I don’t think I can be here. I need to- I just need to go splash some water on my face or something,” Liv says, scurrying down the hall.

* * *

im so bored

“You have your ‘I’m bored’ face right now, Sap.”

Sapnap turns to Karl, who’s sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

“Yeah, a little. But if we go out there Punz’ll probably give us some menial task to do. I’m cool hanging out here,” he says.

and being able to make sure youre okay

“I dunno. He might come ask why we’re taking so long to jot down numbers,” Karl says.

“D’you know where the spirit is now?” Sapnap asks.

Karl’s eyes squint, then widen.

“On second thought, Punz is probably preoccupied. That thing is mad-dogging the kitchen,” Karl says.

“It’s so cute when you do that. Your eyebrows get all scrunched like you’re reading something from far away. Do I tell you how cool you are?” Sapnap asks.

“All the time, babe. Though, I wouldn’t mind if you told me again,” Karl chuckles.

He grabs his arm and pulls him toward the bathtub, hugging his waist.

“You just want compliments, dork,” Sapnap says.

“Maybe,” Karl says slyly.

god hes everything

Sapnap offers a hand and Karl stands up. He keeps their fingers intertwined, laying an arm over his shoulder.

“I’m less bored all of a sudden,” he says, getting a laugh from Karl.

Sapnap cups his cheek and kisses him softly, feeling the smile on the other’s face. Karl has to pull away from giggling, burying his face in his neck.

“Why’re you so giggly, hm?” Sapnap asks.

“Nothing. Just you,” Karl hums.

He looks back up and his eyes are practically sparkling. He bats his eyelashes dramatically, and Sapnap goes back in, this time more passionately. Karl responds eagerly to his touch, leaning into the hands that are on him.

oh

When he pulls back for air, Karl’s face is flushed bright red, as always. Sapnap traces his thumb across his cheek, which is burning hot. In turn, Karl squeezes him by the love handle, a dopey, endearing grin on his face.

oH

“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” Karl says. Sapnap can hear his telltale mischievous lilt. His words aren’t scared, if anything, he’s egging him on.

“I know.”

Sapnap, as he goes back in, he feels a dull ache in his bones.

fuck, right now?

Figuring there’s no point in struggling against it, Sapnap lets his tail uncoil, flicking excitedly. Karl looks pleasantly surprised.

“Usually the horns come out when you’re- y’know,” he says.

“That joke is low-hanging fruit.”

“Yeah. I like having handles, though,” Karl says.

smug piece of shit

you have too much fun teasing me

Sapnap goes back in to kiss him, grabbing his chin to pull his mouth open. The drag of teeth against his bottom lip has him utterly smitten. 

As he’s completely enraptured, hyperfocused on Karl’s mouth against his, out of nowhere-

“Oh my god-”

They pull apart suddenly, caught in the light from the open door. A girl is staring at them with her mouth agape.

“Sap- your- um-”

my what?

“Is that a tail?!”

oh shit

my that

He approaches her cautiously, palms forward.

dont tell me I have to do this

The girl looks on the verge of running, or yelling, or both.

its been a while but here goes nothing

“Hey. What’s your name?” Sapnap asks.

“Olivia. But I go by Liv. You’re… in my bathroom” she says warily, surprised at herself for answering the question at all.

Karl is staring. He knows what he’s doing, but is still reeling from being walked in on.

“Liv. I like that. Liv, do you want to be here right now?” Sapnap asks.

Her eyes start to glaze over.

“No, actually. I’m really scared. But now, looking at you- it’s so much better,” Liv says.

“Uh. Yeah. You’d be willing to do me a favor, right?” Sapnap asks.

“Anything. Anything at all,” she says.

“Forget what you saw. Let it slip from your mind. And don’t tell anyone. Can you do that?”

“Of course. You’re enchanting,” Liv says.

“Yeah. Cool. Great,” Sapnap says.

She nods slackly, mesmerized.

“Go back outside, and you’re gonna feel calm, and you’re not going to remember any of this happened. Okay?” he asks.

“Okay.”

Liv promptly walks out the door.

“I don’t like it when you do that,” Karl says.

“Me neither. Better than the alternative,” Sapnap sighs.

“We should probably head back,” Karl says.

In the kitchen, Parker is questioning their roommate, who looks like she barely knows where she is. Punz immediately stares them both down as they walk down the hall.

“You’re not scared at all? Just like that?” they ask.

“Yeah. Maybe I was too caught up in my own head. It’s not that bad anymore. I especially feel better with- oh, there he is! I didn’t even catch your name,” Liv calls to Sapnap.

“Nick.”

“Nick,” she repeats, puzzled.

“He’s a pretty smooth talker. Aren’t you?” Punz asks in annoyance.

shit shit shit

“She looked like she was having a hard time, I helped is all,” Sapnap says.

“We’re pretty much done here,” George says. They ignore him.

“Did you get any readings in there, Nick?” Punz asks further.

“Nope. Karl said it was mostly in the kitchen with you guys,” Sapnap says.

“Hey, if this ghost is what I think it is, we should-” George is interrupted.

“What were you doing that took so long, huh?” Punz asks.

“Guys.”

“You didn’t say whether we should come back,” Sapnap says.

“GUYS.”

George stares between them.

“If we don’t hurry this up, it’s going to start a-”

A loud breath echoes through the room, startling Parker and Liv, who are currently sitting on the couch. The indisputable sound of locks clicking has the group looking to each other knowingly.

“Everyone, get near me. Get low, stay still. It’s going to find us regardless, but try not to piss it off,” Punz says.

“Not this again, anything but this,” Liv says, slowly remembering her fear.

“It’s going to be fine. Karl, can you open communication? This thing is going to come for Parker, the best we can do is try and minimize the attack,” Punz says.

“Me? What do you mean, why would it come for me?” they ask.

“Banshee,” George says curtly. “As I was going to say earlier, we should get Parker out of here and explain to them that a banshee has marked them for a hunt.”

“Fuck, you’re kidding. That’s insane,” they say.

“This ghost is real, real angry. I’ll try talking it down, but it’s dead set on Parker,” Karl says.

He tiptoes to grab a stick of incense from their duffel bag. Lighting it carefully, he returns to where the group is crouched near the counter and stands up.

“Hello? Who am I speaking to? Woah, okay, calm down, let’s take it easy here,” Karl says.

There’s a distant sound of angered weeping, the cameras powering off. Liv clamps a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.

“I know you’re mad, but let’s just talk. We can talk, right?” he asks.

The jasmine-scented smoke seems to be helping, the white noise dying down a bit and the air growing less hostile.

“Your movies? Um- yes, I’ve seen your movies,” Karl says. He looks nervous, gesturing at the others for answers.

Punz tugs on his shirt.

“Tell her you’ve seen Guests and Figures,” Punz whispers.

“I loved you in Guests and Figures! No, I didn’t see that twist coming. You were amazing. Just- tell me about the role. What was it like?”

What was a bone-chilling wind becomes a soft breeze that delights the wind chimes on the balcony. In no time at all, Karl has the banshee tranquil and focused on the conversation.

“That’s interesting. I know, it’s hard to find someone who recognizes talent, right? Hah, yeah,” Karl says.

The banshee materializes in the living room, a pale phantom with dark streaming hair hovering just above the floor. Her face is blood-curdling; sunken-in red eyes and dark tear streaks frame the tragic afterimage of a fallen young woman. As she approaches Karl, the hatred etched into her eyes slowly melts away.

“Oh- God, you’re- hi,” Karl says.

She looks to Parker, eyes narrowing. They start hyperventilating, petrified.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Parker, it’s not in your head. She’s right here. She can’t hurt you,” Karl says.

“She did before, she can, she will,” they heave.

“We’re right here, okay? She’s distracted, so long as we talk to her. We just need to keep her focused, and we can get you out of here. Uh- George, introduce yourself,” Karl says, moving to calm Liv down.

“H-hello, I’m George. You’re- you’re an actress. I like video production. I mean- film production,” he says.

While the banshee is focused on them, twitching and getting progressively more opaque. Punz motions to Parker to stay quiet and follow, leading them slowly towards the door.

“What do you mean? Oh, no, I’m not- I’m not like you, I’m…” George says to her. “I’m not.”

He hesitates, unable to get his words out. Karl is busy minding Liv, trying to steady her breathing, and once he’s noticed George has stopped talking it’s too late. The ghost’s attention is back onto her target, the anger flooding back.

“Wait, wait, no, don’t!” Karl says.

She darts forward, dress sweeping the floor in an effortless glide. Parker is grabbed by the collar and pulled away from the door. Punz gets in front of them, immediately coming to their defense. A withered claw slashes at his chest, ripping open his shirt.

“Ugh. Didn't want to do this,” he groans.

Without breaking a sweat, he charges the banshee and tears clean through it with his nails drawn. A piercing shriek blares out as the figure evanesces, scattering into the dark from where it manifested. Punz sheathes his claws before turning around to face the trembling humans huddled together on the floor, his face stiff.

“Is it- it- is it gone?” Liv asks breathlessly.

“Nope. Just destroyed the apparition. The spirit is still here, I just bought you some time,” Punz says. “One of you pack up the equipment. Everyone else, let's go.”

George goes straight to pick up the cameras, letting the others leave. 

Liv and Parker look shaken, walking out the door on unsteady feet. 

Parker shoots a text to their landlord and their other roommate to meet them in the lobby, and they all pile into the elevator.

After an awkward silence and a while of Parker glancing at Punz periodically, they clear their throat.

“Luke? There’s something, um… your teeth,” they say.

He tilts his head in confusion, licks at his teeth, and then realizes that his fangs are out.

pfft idio t

oh wait thats not good

“Oops,” Punz says nonchalantly.

“Hey, Liv, you wanna forget what you saw for me?” Sapnap asks.

“Of course,” she says dreamily.

Parker stares blankly at him.

“If you tell anyone what you saw, I’ll have to kill you,” Punz says.

They lean back, eyes wide.

“That was a joke. I’m kidding,” he says, pointing at his face and giving a cheesy smile. “See?”

Parker looks at Liv, who seems distant, and looks to the floor.

"Even if I wanted to tell someone, they'd think I'm crazy," Parker says, mostly to themself.

The elevator doors creak open, and a worried looking man is stood waiting nearby, staring at his phone with a tired older woman.

“Oh, thank god. Are you guys okay?” the man asks, coming up to the elevator.

Parker nods weakly, and they and Liv walk over to him.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” they say.

“It must have been hard for you to go back in there. Parker, I know you've been putting on a brave face but you're struggling just as much,” he says.

“I pray the ghost hunters took care of it, yes?” The landlord asks.

George makes a face. “We’re not ghost hunters. We’re investigators.”

“And about that… I have some bad news,” Punz says. “That unit is inhabited by a banshee, an incredibly hostile spirit that attaches itself to a single person and will stop at nothing to kill them. Parker’s only option is to move or hire a professional exorcist.”

“So this isn’t over?” the landlord asks.

“No. Not over.”

“Honestly, I’m just relieved that we finally have clarity. I don’t care; whatever we have to do, we’ll do it. I’m just glad I can finally sleep knowing we’re not alone in our apartment,” Parker says.

“I’d sleep at a friend’s house for the time being. I’ll have George send everything we documented, and we can come back after the space has been cleansed to make sure everything is in order,” Punz says.

George walks in from the stairwell across the room with their duffel bags.

“You took the stairs with all that stuff?” Liv asks.

“It’s faster for me. Are we done here?” he asks.

“Yeah, we can take the equipment to the car. Answer any questions they might have and give them the number for the witch’s shop,” Punz says.

They carry the bags outside, the sky now fully bathed in dusk. As always, the city is just alive at night, lights from every window and street lamp.

“I wouldn’t have asked you to, but why didn’t you charm the other one?” Punz asks.

“They’re not a girl. Wouldn’t have worked,” Sapnap says.

Punz hums. 

“Sorry. I’m an idiot about that sometimes,” he admits.

“Dude, you’re fine. When I still lived with my family, my grandparents threw around slurs like their lives depended on it. My parents said it was because they’re from a different time, but you’re like ten times as old. It’s about attitude,” Karl says.

“If we’re being technical, I’m probably closer to a hundred times as old. But thanks. I’m trying,” Punz says.

“Hey, I’m gonna go bring the van out front. Better than lugging all that shit to the parking lot,” Sapnap says.

Then, it’s just Punz and Karl out front, illuminated by the headlights of passing cars.

“Why were you so adamant about doing it solo today? Why even have us there in the first place?” Karl asks outright.

“Karl, you won’t admit it, but you’re still dealing with what happened at the cabin. We all are. Things aren’t gonna go back to normal, probably not for a while,” Punz says.

Karl gazes beyond the tapestry of skyscrapers into the starless black night.

“To be transparent with you, I picked this job for a reason. Well, a lot of reasons. Mostly because I know who the spirit is- or used to be,” Punz says.

“No way.”

“Yep,” he says. “Leana Wilson, I met her at a cocktail party when this place was still a hotel. I was in a bad place in my life, I had a lot of questions about myself that I was desperate to find answers to. You know what she told me? 'Shut up and party,' she says. Best advice I ever got. I only talked to her that one night. I didn’t know about what happened until they opened that pitiful fucking haunted mansion shit. What a spit to the face.”

Karl looks to him with sympathy but keeps his mouth closed. Sympathy is not something Punz has ever wanted or needed.

“You know, Karl, sometimes we need a team win. Sometimes we just need a little simple victory. God knows morale is something we’ve been lacking in,” he says.

“That’s… thank you. I know I probably annoy you a lot. I never say thank you for being a good team captain and having all that responsibility on you. You’re really considerate, especially to me. And sometimes, I, erm- don’t think you like me very much,” Karl says.

“What, you still think I have a stick up my ass, huh?”

Karl swallows.

“I’m just messing with you, Karl. You’re annoying sometimes- a lot of the time- but you’re alright. Besides, I trust Sapnap with my life; the fact that he chose you means a lot in my book,” Punz says, giving him a playful shove.

“About Sapnap- I know you guys call each other your demonic names or whatever, but- what was that thing from earlier? You called him... what was it?”

Punz looks at the pavement, remorse straining his eyes.

“That’s not my information to share. It was a slip-up. Forget it ever happened,” he says.

Before Karl can question him further, the van drives up and idles in front of the sidewalk. George comes out from the building, done finishing up with their clients. Not pressing any further, Karl walks with them to load up the van and get inside.

“Sorry I left you alone with Punz. Hopefully he didn’t start monologuing at you,” Sapnap says from the driver’s seat.

“It was more of a soliloquy, but beggars can’t be choosers,” Punz chuckles.

They fall into easy conversation, throwing back and forth jokes while Sapnap starts up the car, Karl next to him. Punz let him have the passenger’s seat, which puts a smile on Sapnap’s face.

Karl gently rubs circles into his hand as they pull away from the building. He turns the radio on, letting the mellow voices of talk show hosts carry them on the drive home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changing update schedule to twice a week to give myself some wiggle room. Sorry for the delay, I wanted this chapter to have some more planning/thought into it. Thank y'all for being patient :]  
> Also, I'll be tweeting updates, in case you want to be notified faster (@etceterangel)


	4. Something of a Refuge Itself

In the late hours, when all are either sleeping or at their liveliest, that is when George feels the closest to being alive. Exploring the untrodden paths of the city’s underbelly brings him an esoteric sense of greater belonging. Now, George has found himself forging a small path beside a bridge, down where the concrete slope dips. A smattering of dry brush lines the edge of the man-made river below; the brink of glaucous water pools into eddies of swirling algae.

_ There’s something calming about this river. It wasn’t here before someone brought it into existence. People take that for granted. _

He dips a hand into the murky water, pulling it out and putting it up to the moonlight. The wind blows his hair, but he can’t feel it. He’s unbothered by the cold- to George there is no cold. There is no wet, no feeling of slime from the green froth caked to his fingers.

Letting out a sigh, he laments the lack of dragon breath mist in the air, one of his former joys of the cold London months. He decides it best to leave before he encounters anyone unsavory down here. After the trudge back up from under the viaduct, George is back onto the sidewalk and continuing on his way.

He sighs into the endless void of night, the foggy glare of city lights clouding any glimpse of a foreign star. It’s an unbearable place at times, but here, in his small slice of this city, exploring the overlooked and untouched under dusk, it’s enough to make it worth it.

George heads back towards the denser packed buildings onto a main street. In his experience, it’s better to already be home when someone wakes up- his friends tend to worry, even if there’s no real danger. He spots a shortcut in the direction of Punz’s street and takes that small detour.

_ This is sketchy. It’s faster this way though. _

Weaving between two buildings, he walks down an alleyway barely lit by distant streetlamps. It’s eerie here, and George is getting a bad feeling- which is frankly all he feels nowadays.

“Hey, do you know the directions to a gas station?”

George barely registers the man approaching him.

“Uh, I’m bad at giving directions, sorry,” George says.

“Could you show me on your phone? I’ll be out of your hair,” he says.

The man’s clothes are slightly ratty, and he has signs of healing injuries along his face and arms. Down his sunken cheekbone is a line of stitches. That bad feeling is still there.

George, ever curious, figures there’s no harm in seeing his intentions.

_ It’s not like this man can do anything to me. _

He pulls out his phone and opens his maps, scrolling to a nearby gas station. There’s a quiet sound of a knife unsheathing, and George nearly rolls his eyes.

“Hands up. Empty your pockets,” he says.

Playing along, George feigns surprise, raising his arms.

“Give me your phone,” the man says, brandishing a switchblade.

_ Whatever could be done about this? _

He wills himself out of the material world, disconnecting from the facade of a physical self. Letting go, he tries to melt into the realm of the imperceptible.

“Did I fucking stutter?”

What?

_ That… that didn’t work. _

“Um- I- I can’t do that,” George says. He just needs more time.

“Don’t make me ask you again.”

_ Why isn’t this working? _

George shakes his head, looking to the floor, trying to focus.

The man waves the knife expectantly.

When George looks helplessly, giving no response, he thrusts the blade forward.

“What- what the fuck?”

The man stares into the empty air around his knife. Whipping his head around, he searches for anyone, narrowly missing the floating phone passing behind him.

George jogs the rest of the way home, still full of adrenaline from the panic of not being able to phase out. Becoming invisible is a reflex, usually incited by fear.

_ This shouldn’t be happening. It’s been so long without powerlessness. _

Soon, he’s back at Punz’s house, opening the door with a key left behind a potted plant. George heads straight for the living room and paces along the wall. He needs to get busy, he needs to do something with his hands before he can think about the implications of losing control.

Baking supplies. There are baking supplies.

George opens up a tutorial for the pie crust, opening all the cabinets and filling the counter with ingredients.

_ This is good. Baking. Good. _

The passing hours feel like a dream, trying and failing to form a pile of buttery flour into a cohesive dough.

Punz’s bedroom door opens, and he walks out into the kitchen. George hadn't realized it was morning

“Hey. You’re back. How was your night?” Punz asks with a yawn.

“Same as every other night. I didn’t know you could be bad at baking, this is kind of ridiculous,” George says.

Punz squints at the flat mass of watery flour and chunks of butter.

“I’m gonna be honest with you. That looks scuffed as fuck,” he says.

George laughs, burying his face into his hands.

“Yeah that’s about right,” he chuckles.

“If you’re done with… whatever that is, I have a project for you. I’m heading out soon, but I left you the info by the computer,” Punz says.

“Okay. Will do,” George says.

Punz signals a quick goodbye before leaving, a basket in hand. George throws out the sorry excuse for a pie crust and goes to see what was left for him. Stuck onto the desk are a sticky note and a manilla folder.

_ I don’t know anything about technology _

_ but you’re good with computers and shit _

_ find me as much info as you can with this _

_ \- Punz _

When he opens the folder, it’s chock full of papers, the immediate page a document with real estate information for a house listing from 2015. George sorts through the folder, staring in confusion at the extensive records on this house, reported occult activity, and finally, a small paper with another post-it attached.

_ Find the owner of this burner number _

_ SOON _

* * *

George knocks on the door, patiently waiting outside Sapnap and Karl’s place. The area is weirdly white-picket fenced, these condos looking like a small-scale suburban neighborhood. It’s exactly the type of place where a young couple would move into their first home. 

Eventually, the door swings open. Sapnap is standing in the doorway in his slippers, probably fresh out of bed despite it being mid-evening.

“Oh, hey, I thought you were staying at Punz’s house,” Sapnap says.

“I was. Got bored. Also, he doesn’t have a backyard,” George says.

Sapnap lets him in, rubbing at his eyes.

“I mean, we don’t have much of a backyard either,” he says.

“That’s fine. I just need somewhere outside and private. Do you have any empty cans?” George asks.

“Are you kidding? You’re probably looking at the most caffeinated household on the planet. Gimme a sec.”

Sapnap walks down the hall to his and Karl’s room and returns with an armful of empty Monster energy drinks.

“Karl’s in the shower, looks like we get to have some Sap-George time,” he says, tossing a can at him.

George catches it, smiling fondly.

_ Just like old times. _

In the backyard, George spots a fallen tree trunk and rolls it closer to the back porch. The grass out here crunches under his feet, tinged yellow from neglect. He sets up the cans in a row on top of the log.

Sapnap watches interestedly, all the while talking in an unfiltered stream about whatever he thinks about- it’s something George didn’t know he missed. Before he moved out, they used to spend every day watching movies on Blu-ray and eating terrible Mexican food, or playing Halo, and talking about nothing.

“Oh, I see what you’re doing- it’s a shooting range. I used to go out back and shoot cans all the time growing up,” Sapnap says.

“Kind of, that’s the idea. I want to practice my powers, the ones I never really use,” George says.

“Ooh, sick! Alright, Gogy, show me whatcha got,” Sapnap says.

George breathes in deeply and out through his nose. He lets his arms go limp at his sides, focusing on the fields of energy as his limbs. Manipulating the space around one of the cans, he compresses it inwards, crushing it under the force.

“I could probably do better, but y’know, ‘salright,” Sapnap teases.

“Oh yeah? Grab a can then,” George says.

As Sapnap picks it up, it goes cold in his hand.

“Shit, that’s freezing,” Sapnap hisses. "I had it good when you used to chill my beer. We should invite you over in the summer."

“I'm pretty cool, aren't I?” George says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sapnap laughs.

The screen door opens behind them.

“Oh, hey George. What are you guys up to?” Karl says.

“Cool ghost shit, baby,” Sapnap says, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Really? I like cool ghost stuff,” Karl says.

“Check it out,” George says.

He crushes another, completely flattening it against the tree trunk.

“Oh, I can do that,” Karl says.

Picking up a can, Karl smashes it against his head frat boy-style, throwing it on the ground. George tunes into his abilities again, raising another can into thin air and throwing it at him. Karl gasps and George delights in the bewildered look on his face.

“No way! Telekinesis? That’s so cool!” Karl says, waving his arms excitedly.

“Not telekinesis, exactly. More like energy manipulation,” George says

“That’s even cooler!  You always said you had ghost powers but I thought it was just turning invisible and being, like, kind of spooky," Karl says.

George chuckles.

“I think I’m good now. I just wanted to get a little practice in,” he says.

_ So it’s not every ability. Just the one. _

“Karl and I were gonna have a lazy day today. Wanna watch some TV with us?” Sapnap says.

“Sure.”

Their place is small but cozy. Even though they’ve only been living together a couple of weeks, it’s packed with knick-knacks and plants, most of which are dead or dying. It's more of a hodge-podge of both their personalities in one tiny space, but that comes with its own unique charms. The Office is playing in the background, the UK version as George insisted, and the scare from earlier at night is mostly forgotten.

Mostly.

“You have any cool ghosty adventures last night?” Karl asks.

George’s smile falters at the edges.

“Actually… something weird happened. I almost got mugged-”

“You what? Shit, George, why didn’t you say something?” Sapnap asks.

“That’s not the weird part, I wasn’t in any danger. But when I tried to go invis, I couldn’t,” George replies.

“I’m so sorry, that sounds scary. You okay?” Karl asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine now. But this used to happen before I got a hold of controlling it. When I was on my own I spent months in this- this trance. I was halfway between consciousness, constantly phasing in and out. I had no idea if I was alive, or real, or anything for a long time. I’m terrified of going back to that,” George says.

Karl places a hand on his shoulder.

“You won’t. You have us, we won’t let that happen to you,” he offers.

“I mean, yeah, that’s a nice thought,” Sapnap says. “But also this is kind of, uh, really important. Did you talk to Punz about it?”

“No, and I’m not going to. Punz is going to worry, like he does, and try to fix it himself. This is something he can't do for me ,” George says.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna be a buck with you- all this supernatural stuff is super complicated. None of us can do it alone, even if we wish we could. Heck, I probably need some training for my powers,” Karl says.

“That’s a nice thought, but it would be hard to find someone who knows enough. Not to mention trusting them with our secret,” George says.

“Wait, isn’t there the witch place, the one we referred the last client to?” Karl asks.

“Oh, that’s not a bad idea, actually. You haven't formally met them yet, Karl," Sapnap says.

"Doesn't Punz not want us to talk to other supernaturals? Or does he just mean-"

Sapnap shakes his head at George, motioning to stop. Karl chews on his lip.

“We can take the van. They aren’t that far from here,” Sapnap says, moving on.

_ That look on Karl’s face is disheartening. We’d tell you if we could. _

Riding in the van is always like sitting on an old couch, and sinking into the worn seats reminds George of old road-trips. Sapnap would never admit it, but he loves that dingy, beige behemoth like a friend.

He drives out to a nearby strip mall, its parking lot close to empty. They’re parked in front of a store called “Velvetine Magick and Gifts.”

Sapnap leads them in, a bell ringing above the door. The man at the front is busy hanging dried flowers when he hears the chime.

“Welcome. I’ll be right with you,” he says. He turns to see the group and recognition passes over his face. “Oh, George, Sapnap, and… Karl, is it?”

“Yeah, Karl,” he says, offering a hand.

“Red. Nice to meet you. My boyfriend’s around, I’ll call him over.”

At that moment, a cat walks in from behind the counter. The blue-eyed Birman has a folded towel balanced on its head.

“Oh, there he is. Ant, introduce yourself,” Red says.

Karl has the most priceless expression.

The cat hops up on the counter and stands up on its hind legs. With a puff of mystical dark smoke, a man appears where it was sitting. He still has cat-like features, staring back with slit-pupiled blue eyes, clothed in a flower-print robe.

“Nice to meet you, Karl. I’m Ant,” he says.

Karl blinks a few times before shaking his hand.

“I- um- Hi.”

Sapnap and George giggle behind him.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. It’s been forever since I’ve gotten to do that,” Ant chuckles.

“What brings you to our store? And without Punz, no less,” Red says.

“I’ve been having issues with my spectral form. I don’t know how to get better control over my invisibility,” George admits.

“That’s a tough one. For me, at least, abilities are tied to mental state. Have you been under any stress lately?” Red asks.

The three look between each other.

“You could say that,” Karl says.

“I won’t press for details, but have you discussed it at all?” Red asks.

The group stares at the floor, hands in their pockets.

“There’s your answer,” Ant says.

“...Maybe start there. Also, I have books on meditation and focusing energy, which I think could be useful to you,” Red says.

“Yeah, I’m not very good at reading books, and every time I tried meditating I got bored. Could you give me the quick version?” George asks.

“Meditation and full-body focus is something that comes with years of practice and dedication-”

Red is cut off by the look Ant gives him. He gestures as if to say "humor them."

“Well,” Red sighs. “Get comfortable somewhere quiet where you can be alone. Just start by feeling your breath, and feel where your clothes meet your skin. Try being conscious of the tips of your fingers. Feel the inside of your fingers, and slowly work your way up your hand and then your whole body. Once you’re fully aware of every moving part, clear your mind and analyze what is plaguing your thoughts. Address those thoughts, or figure out how to start addressing them.”

George furrows his eyebrows.

“I’m... I don’t really breathe or have inside moving parts,” he says.

“The principle is the same. There’s energy living inside you, whether it’s stored in flesh or void. You need to be in tune with that which is flowing through you to fully cultivate your abilities,” Red says.

“That sounds complicated, but I’ll try my best. Is there anything that could make it easier?” George says. **  
**

“You could do with some kind of talisman or charm. I imagine you need all the positive energy you can get. Oh- I know just the thing ,” Red says.

He goes into the back, leaving them with Ant, who’s lazing on a tabletop with his tail upright and hooked at the tip.

“So… you’re… a cat?” Karl says.

Ant smiles, baring his canines.

“So, you’re a human?” he asks.

Karl is all but ready to start apologizing before he cuts him off with a laugh.

“Red is a practicing witch. I’m his familiar,” Ant says.

“Aren’t familiars usually… just animals?” Karl asks.

“Dude,” Sapnap says.

“It’s fine. I am, in a way. Familiars are often supernatural. I protect Red; that’s my job,”

“Sorry if I'm being dumb ,” Karl apologizes. “I haven’t met other supernaturals before.”

“You're perfectly fine. I’m glad you met some others like you. It can feel lonely being surrounded by people in a completely different world,” Ant says.

Karl smiles appreciatively.

“It really is sometimes. That's why we've gotta stick together,” he says. Karl shares a fond look with George and Sapnap.

_ You may have found our family last, but we’ll always have each other. All of us. _

“Hey, maybe one day you can meet more… like us. You never know,” Ant says, his tail relaxing by his side and flicking at the end.

Sapnap’s face twists in demurral, but Red comes back in and interrupts them.

“Here. Black tourmaline, for grounding. Perfect pick-me-up for stability and focus,” he says. Red opens a glass chest with a jet-black stone sitting on a satin pillow. “I always keep some special crystals cleansing and pristine for days, waiting for the perfect person that needs them.”

George gets lost in the outlines of the rough, dark edges against the soft fabric. It feels calm and neutral, earth open to be molded to fit his energy. Sapnap starts reaching for his wallet before Red pushes his hand away.

“Consider it a gift,” he says, placing the chest in George’s hands.

Ant perks his ears up and sniffs the air before descending into another cloud of smoke, hopping off the counter as a cat. The bell chimes behind them, and another customer walks in. Red smiles at her.

“Hello, Irene. Your wreaths are ready and wrapped for you, ma’am.”

“Oh, thanks Red. Sorry I’m a bit late,” the woman says.

He hands her two hoops wrapped in cloth ribbon.

“You’ll need to fluff them a bit after opening them,” Red says.

“Perfect,” the woman says. She loops the wreaths under her arm. “Oh, and Red? He’s doing it again.”

She points to Ant, who is on his hind legs lapping at a saucer-shaped lamp with a lit flame at the end. Red picks him up and sets him down on the floor with a scolding look.

“Every time I think it’s somewhere he can’t reach. I might have to switch to castor oil at this point. Shame,” he says.

“Well, I’m in a rush. I’ll have to be going, but next time I visit make sure that man of yours is around. It’s about high-time I meet mister Velvet. Anyways, have a good day, Red,” she says.

“Goodbye,” Red smiles and waves. He waits for her to leave to drop his perky “how can I help you” smile and relax. “Well, I guess you three probably have some business to attend to. George, I recommend carrying that tourmaline with you for at least a few days to let it absorb your natural rhythms and schedules. See if it helps.”

“Thank you. Truly,” George says.

“Come back whenever you need something. Trust me, Red and I need the company,” Ant says from behind the counter. He resumes lapping at his paws, very pleased.

“We sure will. Bye, y’all,” Sapnap says.

“Bye guys,” Red says.

The group leave and load up back into the van. The strip-mall looks less depressing now that the clouds are dusted with pink undersides and through the glass, Red is seen giving Ant head scratches. It seems like a tiny, overlooked adventure in the middle of a pavement sea and row of faded buildings.

_ Hm. _

George adds it to his mental list of oases, a little unseen refuge in the vast metropolitan expanse, just how he likes. In the car, he cradles the crystal in his hands, still looking at it with a sense of wonder. He’d never considered anything in this realm before, but seeing it now and feeling it in his hands, he can understand the appeal of magick.

_ Worth a shot. Who knows, it could help. _

“You gettin’ good vibes from that rock?” Sapnap asks.

“Hah, yeah. It’s a... good rock,” George says.

“What are you gonna name it?” Karl asks.

“Name it?” George asks back.

“Oh yeah, you  _ gotta _ name it,” Sapnap says.

“How about… Pukka?” George suggests.

“Ooh, nice nice nice. What’s a pukka?” Karl asks.

“I used to like looking for the most interesting words in a thesaurus I could find. Pukka means real, or sound. It feels fitting. Feels grounded,” George says.

“I like it,” Karl says.

“Whose house are you keeping it at?” Sapnap asks.

“I’ll keep it on me. But I think I’ll be at your house today,” George replies.

He holds onto the chest the entire drive. Sapnap treats them all to Chinese takeout, eating lo mein out of boxes outside the restaurant. Slurping up noodles by the bushes of a parking lot with his friends feels like the high school experience he was robbed of for lack of friends. University provided some opportunity to have real friendships, but that was cut short-

_ That train of thought is dangerous. You have something special here. _

George remembers when it truly hit him that Sapnap and Karl were together and that he wouldn’t see Sapnap as much anymore. He dreaded how it would come between them as friends and grieved the future moments they could have shared together.

Now, he feels silly thinking back. Karl slotted into their lives like a tailored puzzle piece that was previously missing from the back. He was almost destined to find them, to join them, and George is all the better for it.

Eventually, when they arrive, Karl already has a sleepy look about him.

“You tired?” Sapnap asks, hand resting on the wheel as the engine slows to a stop.

“I think I’m going to bed early,” Karl says.

“Aight. Piggy-back?” Sapnap asks.

Karl nods, making a grabbing motion. Circling around to the passenger door, Sapnap kneels and picks Karl up, carrying him into the house on his back while he sleepily giggles. George pulls out his phone to ring Punz.

"What's up?" he asks.

“Hello. Just wanted to let you know I’m staying at Sapnap and Karl’s,” George says.

“Noted. Did you finish the project I left you?” Punz asks.

“...Yeah. Are you going to tell me what this is about?” George asks.

“Yes,” Punz says.

“Are you lying to me?” George asks.

“Yes.”

George doesn’t know whether to laugh or shake his head in frustration. He ends up doing both.

“Just give me some time,” Punz says. “There’s still shit I need to figure out.”

“If this is what I think it is… that's something we need to talk about. With _everyone_ ,” George says.

“Listen. I don’t need everyone to panic before I have all the info,” Punz says.

“Okay,” George replies. Punz sounds like he doesn’t want to dwell on it.

_ If anyone can make the right call, it’s him. He’s right; it’s best not to worry about it. _

“What’d you guys do today?” Punz asks, moving on.

“We had fun. Karl met Red and Ant today. And I got a crystal,” George says.

“He met Red and Ant?”

“And I got a crystal.”

Punz takes a deep breath, taking a few seconds. George is prepared for a lecture about not telling him or an upset father spiel.

“I would have preferred to be there,” he says stoically. “That’s something important. I've known those guys for a long, long time. I… I actually haven’t visited them in a while myself.”

_ Oh. He's not- He's not mad. He wanted to be there, he wanted Karl to meet them. This is... new _

"We should go again sometime," George offers. "Oh, did  _ you _ have a good day out?"

"Sure," Punz says. He doesn't elaborate.

"...Sounds fun. Anyways, I just wanted to let you know. I sent you the info I found. I might 'sleep' tonight, I think," George says.

"That's good. You need to lay down every once in a while, stop walking in one direction all the time. See you later, man," Punz says.

“Good night.”

George follows the pair inside, plugging his phone in with his spare charger in the living room. He collapses onto the couch, laying arms over his face. Whenever he decides to rest for a night, the weight of his nonstop days of waking hit his psyche like a truck. Neither Sapnap nor Karl ask if he's sleeping over, but they get to work silently getting him all his things.

Sapnap bringing over a fuzzy wolf-patterned blanket and Karl bringing him his pillow, both of them nod a silent goodnight. Before he turns off the ceiling lamp, Karl does a little gasp and races to their room. He comes back with a journal and a pen, leaving them on the coffee table, then follows Sapnap to bed.

George peeks at the first page.

**YOU SAID YOU GET REALLY BORED WHEN YOU TRY TO SLEEP AND YOU THINK TOO MUCH SO I GOT YOU THIS AND YOU**

**CAN WRITE DOWN ALL YOUR THOUGHTS AND KEEP IT LIKE A JOURNAL!!! THIS IS KARL!!!!!** **HOPE YOU LIKE IT** **!!!!!!!!! ・ ◡ ・**

Staring at the flaking popcorn ceiling, the ticking of a cuckoo clock Karl thrifted, the two different car fresheners hanging from the fan that George has wondered about the smell of- it’s a home. That’s what it is.

_ You found something really special here. _

He sinks into the couch and lets himself drain of all the time spent moving without a stop. George won’t fall asleep. George won’t comfortably drift off into a hazy dream state. He won’t wake up feeling rested and satisfied.

But now, George can lay here, on a couch, in a home, in something of a refuge itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching to once a week updates instead. I want to prioritize quality over quantity and not push myself so much :]


	5. Everything By Himself

Punz opens his eyes to his vision obscured by something over his head, rough and suffocating. There’s rope wound around him, trapping his wings against his back at an awkward angle. The surrounding sounds of shouting instill him with a sickening sense of deja vu. It’s as if he’s watching back a film he recorded and left forgotten.

Many pairs of hands are holding him down against a wall, something cobbled of stone. The bag is ripped from his head for a few moments and he gets a glance at the crowd that’s come to gawk at the scene. The cloth is torn at the top from being pulled over his horns, bindings digging into the leathery skin of his wings.

Punz meets the eyes of a girl from afar, and the phantom feeling of betrayal sits low in his chest.

“Here we beseech thee, one true and living God in three persons, Father, Son, Holy-Ghost; reave us of which our blessed township is wrought. This creature that deceives with flesh and blood, daemon risen from fire, be cast into water to his death.”

The girl mutters his name, his true name, over and over again like a mantra, and Punz feels his power sapped from his body. His mission from the beginning was clear- cast doubt amongst their people, turn the young and innocent. A simple task with a feasible means.

Still, he ended up here. Being tossed into a well, swathed like a newborn, and just as powerless. The cloth sack is thrown back on as he’s heaved over the stone wall, plunged into the ice-cold depths with heavy stones tied to his ankles. His lungs are bloated with water, thrashing against his weights. Then, she must have stopped uttering his name, even just for a moment, because his strength returns to him. Punz breaks free of his bindings and rises up, a terrifying leviathan of teeth and claws hovering in the air.

As he falls, he lands onto a mattress, now in a different scene, something warm and domestic. Punz is clothed in twisted silk sheets in a room with Edwardian wallpaper and a canopy above the bed. A woman is sitting before him in a cotton slip, holding a camera to her eye.

“You had better hold still, Lucas,” she laughs. Her voice is like honey. “Give me a pose, love.”

“A pose? I'm not much of a model," Punz hears himself say. He's never sounded more content.

"You don't need to be. I’m not interested in photographing theatrics. You are enough of a wonder. I want to capture this moment," she says.

Punz tries desperately to see what she looks like, chasing the sight of the woman before him. Her features are nebulous, a bleary haze of shadows and planes. The thought of her face slipping from his memory is devastating.

The woman offers one last laugh before he sinks into the bed, descending into somewhere dark. 

He’s not in Hell, but it feels like home.

The view is nearly as horrific.

Punz’s clothes are torn and soaked in red, claws still fresh from tearing skin. There’s no thought, no reason, only a blind, seething rage occupying every part of his being. Distant screams barely register, his brain numb from grief. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone trapped, desperate to flee. There’s the wild, hopeless look in their eye of someone who knows death is inescapable.

This is despicable, he shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t do this. Punz watches, powerless to stop the scene from unfolding. Steam pours from his mouth with a deafening roar, human in his sights, intent not to kill, but to _slaughter_.

The moment he charges, Punz shoots forward, waking in a cold sweat. He runs a hand through his hair, trying but failing to catch his breath.

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” he wheezes.

The sun peeking in through the blinds tells him it’s already morning, which he’s thankful for. Most often Punz is forced from sleep in the middle of the night, left to stew in his own past until sunrise.

A loud clattering echoes from the kitchen. George is home.

Punz would stay and be a part of whatever shenanigans George is getting up to, but he has plans today. Speaking of, he needs a shower. Preferably a long one; hot water would do well to flush the unwelcome sights down the drain.

He dresses in something nicer than his usual hoodie and track pants, telling George about his project before heading out the door with his things. Punz has enjoyed having George stay over the past few days, the quiet can be upsetting at times. 

Once Sapnap and Karl had moved in together, he thought George would be there every night playing video games until morning. It’s nice that he switches off; Punz isn’t ready to adjust to having the nest empty quite yet. Empty nester? Jesus, you’re old.

Speaking of old, there’s someone he’s been meaning to see. Punz makes sure to have a paper and pencil with him to message him since he can never be bothered to answer the phone. He’s beginning to believe the guy makes people jump through hoops on purpose, the pretentious ass. His folk are not ones for technology, he supposes.

Driving out to a nearby park, he looks for somewhere surrounded by nature, or as much nature as you can get in this city. It’s a nice day out, so there are children and animals playing about in the grass. Punz finds a spot as far out from the picnic blankets and jungle gyms as possible where he can sit discreetly.

Under a tree, he lays out a small mat with a bowl of salt, a bowl of water, incense, and a match around a candle. He writes out a message and draws a sigil before putting the paper over the open flame. It doesn’t immediately light, taking a few moments to be received. Then, the thing catches fire without destroying the paper. The words on the page burn away, revealing a different message.

**A gateway is waiting for you.**

**Corner of Court and Monterey.**

**You’ll know it when you see it.**

**Come whenever you please.**

Ever the cryptic. 

Fortunately, that’s not far from here. Punz packs up his makeshift altar and starts making his way through the park. Across the street from inside a bar, an interaction catches his ear.

“Get your fucking hands off her!”

“Hey, what the fuck? I wasn’t doing anything,” another man’s speech slurs.

“Not doing anything? So I imagined your hand on her ass? You were eyeing her fucking drink, too.”

The argument gets louder in his head, harsh words being flung back and forth. There’s a buzzing under Punz’s skin.

“Back off, asshole.”

“Mind your fucking business, the bitch is-”

Punz tenses at the loud thud of a fist meeting jaw. The front door to the bar swings open and a girl with runny mascara rushes out. Inside, a doorman is trying to pull apart a fight, one man on the ground with a smug grin and a broken nose. 

He stops in his tracks, realizing he was walking in the direction of the conflict without knowing it. Punz is itchy all over, and he can hear throbbing echoing in his skull. His back aches, right between his shoulder blades.

Hastily checking his phone, Punz checks the distance of the boxing gym from here.

It’s only a few minutes away.

His visit can wait.

* * *

Rebel’s MMA and Fitness Club. Home away from home.

“Ey, Luke. You been comin’ a lot recently. Shit on your mind?”

“You know how it is. Better in here than out there,” Punz says.

“Not that I don’t like havin’ you around, but maybe you should invest in an in-home gym. Or at least your own gloves,” he says.

“Nah. I’m good. You’d probably go out of business,” Punz chuckles.

“Hah, whatever you say, vato. Here you go.”

The owner hands him a pair of rental gloves and wraps and Punz slides a five across the counter. In the back of the gym, he struggles to fit the basket into a locker. He really should wrap his hands, but most things aren’t enough to hurt, and the things that do are a pleasant numb to his system. Punz changes into a pair of shorts and a wife-beater and heads back out, anxious to go hit something.

Setting up at a bag, he squares his feet, arms tucked in near his chest the way he was taught. Protect the face. Protect the middle. Shoulders in close.

Punz takes a few light jabs with his left hand. He swings a right hook, shivering at the harsh contact. The punching bag swings and he moves with it, light on his feet, keeping the thing in his sights.

A series of images rush through his head. The man at the bar with his sniveling, beaten face, the woman standing outside, shaking and panicked. That train of thought continues, expanding into other human conflicts, the dregs of society, every wicked thing in the world- it fills him with a thrumming euphoria. Punz channels that energy through his fists, throwing punches until it hurts. 

He hates it, he fucking hates it, he wishes this didn’t happen every time, he wishes it didn’t thrill him, he wishes he didn’t have to spend every day fighting compulsions. Even now he’s fighting, straining not to use his full force. He could send this bag ripping from its chains, he could break something, he could break someone-

“Fuck,” Punz says breathlessly, letting his arms hang limp at his sides.

He sits on the floor, ripping off his boxing gloves. Flexing his knuckles, Punz scolds himself for not stretching beforehand. This sucks. Tomorrow he’ll be sore, but he’ll deal with that when it comes. You absolute fucking idiot.

Punz wraps up and heads back, changing into his nice clothes and carrying on and leaving the gym as if he was never there. Time to carry on, now that that’s out of his system.

He makes his way to Court and Monterey, looking for a spot where a gateway could be. Up above a theatre, he sees a lit marquee sign in front of the roof entrance. Punz circles around the building to get a better view, and he spots it- a marking over the door, easily overlooked as graffiti.

Making sure there are no eyes on him, he scales the fire escape. The white chalk glyph glows as he approaches. Punz places a hand on it.

“Open.”

The door swings open and he’s met with an arched hallway lined with sconces of blue fire. His body seems to stall, adjusting to the plane of this dimension. As he walks through, an archway opens to a grand room with a glass ball suspended in the center, surrounded by tiles of moon phases.

The walls are lined with doors, and one opens as he steps in. A man clothed in a trench coat and slacks steps in, beaming when he sees Punz.

“God, how long’s it been, Punnozseth?” he says.

“I told you to stop doing that, Wilbur,” Punz says.

“And I’ve told you I frankly don’t care,” Wilbur replies. “Let’s go somewhere we can sit, shall we? You’re in luck, I just started a kettle.”

Punz is starting to remember why it’s been so long.

"Tea?" Punz sighs.

"Not because I'm English, because I'm a sorcerer. And a good host, mind you," Wilbur clicks his tongue in disapproval.

He leads Punz into a reading nook that looks straight out of Harry Potter, lined with bookcases that look as old as himself.

“As much as I enjoy corresponding, we haven’t had a proper visit in ages. But I’d be a fool to think you’d come without necessity. You were vague in your request to meet with me, and I’m beginning to think it’s something serious,” Wilbur says. 

He brings him a cup that smells heavenly- because even his tea is pretentious. His leather armchairs are annoyingly comfortable.

“Yeah, about that. I need some advice,” Punz says.

“The old man is coming to me for advice, hm?” Wilbur says, taking a long sip.

“You know you’re older than me in the way that matters. Demons and aging, and all that,” Punz says. “We’ve run into… a problem. I just- I- I feel like I’m being tested by the world. I don’t know how to address it, and I sure as shit don’t know how to be responsible for other people,” Punz says.

“Ah, so it’s trouble being team captain,” Wilbur says.

“I don’t like calling myself ‘team captain.’ We’re not a hierarchy. These are my friends,” Punz says.

“Yet your head still sits heavy. Just because you can’t see the crown doesn’t mean you don’t wear it. My apprentices are my family, yet I still accept my role above them,” Wilbur says.

“How do you do it with those two?” Punz asks.

“I’ve learned a lot from guiding them. That thing they say, that children teach you as much as you teach them? It’s true. I’ve learnt to embody the qualities I took for granted in my own mentor,” Wilbur says.

His eyes grow downcast as he mentions Phil, tracing the edges of his teacup wistfully.

“It just sometimes feels like my only purpose is making sure they’re okay,” he says.

“I know you long to shield them from the dire straits of this world. You face many challenges they’ll never know, and you wish to keep it that way. I know exactly how you feel. But the difference is your friends are old enough and wise enough to bear the weight. You, George, Sapnap, _Karl-_ you’re in this together,” Wilbur says.

“What if I can handle this without them? What if we get all the guys together and figure this out on our own?” Punz suggests.

“All of us? I thought you said this was just ‘some problem.’” Wilbur asks.

He reads Punz’s expression with narrowed eyes.

“There's a fine line between selflessness and idiocy. Don’t stumble into the wrong side trying to cling to the other. You’re a smart man, Punnozseth,” Wilbur says, ignoring his look of annoyance. “Sooner or later you’ll have to face whatever your burden is. Promise me you’ll make the right decision.”

“I’m doing my best. It’s been so hard lately. I constantly feel like I’m on the verge of something bad happening,” Punz admits.

Wilbur throws his head back and laughs. “That’s life, my friend. Maybe you’re more human-like than I thought.” Wow, what a backhanded fucking compliment. You always knew how to raise someone’s spirits, Wil.

“Before I leave, can you take a look at something for me?” Punz asks.

“Of course,” Wilbur replies. He hands over the remains of a smudge stick he’d been keeping in a ziplock bag. Wilbur’s face scrunches up as he picks it apart with clinical interest. “What… The fuck is this?”

“Found it. Can you tell me what’s inside?” Punz asks.

“This is not like any smudge stick I’ve ever seen. This thing is… it’s vile,” Wilbur says.

“Yeah, I know it smells like shit, but can you just-”

“Not the fucking smell, Punnozseth. The energy in this thing, it’s- it’s rancid. Where did you get this?”

Punz keeps his best straight-face on.

“I said I found it," he replies.

"Well I can do some further analysis but be careful with wherever you… found this. This has the hallmarks of occult activity," Wilbur says.

Yeah. No shit. Punz takes a final swig of tea and leaves the cup on an end table. Wilbur takes this as his cue that this conversation is over, and escorts him out of the library.

“You don’t need to bring me gifts just to pay me a visit, by the way,” Wilbur says as they stand in a hallway.

“It’s the polite thing to do. And for my own peace of mind,” Punz replies.

“You still all red-faced about being financially dependent on us? Don’t be. Demons and aging, and all that. Besides, you work for what all of us pay you, we're equals, as much as you like to distance yourself from our lot,” Wilbur says.

Punz offers a weak smile that doesn't reach his eyes. Is the smallest semblance of normalcy too much to ask for?

"Do you have plans for the rest of the day?" Wilbur asks.

"I'm a jobless former demon with no social life other than my almost equally-as-jobless friends. What do you think?" Punz says.

"Does freelance coding not count as a job? Shame to see you sell Sapnap short like that," Wilbur teases.

"Wil, I pretend on a daily basis to know what coding is. Your point?" Punz asks.

"Have dinner with us, me and the boys. We haven't had proper guests since the last time a council meeting was at our place. And you didn't even bother to come," Wilbur replies.

"Right. Sorry about that," Punz says.

"Oh shush, I know you're not sorry. You can't lie to me."

"Yeah, you're right. I'm not."

Wilbur takes him by the arm and waves his hand, a door across the room flying open.

"Then make it up to me by dining at my table," he says.

It's not like he was doing anything, and judging by the lack of texts on his phone, the guys probably don't need him. Punz still proceeds with caution- the last time he visited he forgot time passes differently in this space and nearly ended up on a missing person report. It’s dinner with the kids though, so he doubts he’ll engage in drunken Gregorian chant karaoke. Again.

Wilbur leads him into the most ornate dining room he’s ever seen, in fact, it’s almost a hall. There’s a long, engraved wood table in the center of the room, blanketed by a silk tablecloth with candelabras in front of every plate. The dishes are all placed to a tee, folded napkins beside more forks and spoons than Punz could name, or count for that matter.

Pulling a cord just next to the entrance, Wilbur sounds off a bell throughout his home. The unmistakable sound of thudding footsteps approaches, and two teenagers come barging in through the entrance. The one he recognizes as Tommy leaves cinders behind his feet and has a scaly tail whipping behind him. That is contrasted by the flowers Tubbo leaves in his wake, small antlers poking from under his mop of mossy hair.

“Is it dinner time already?”

“No shit Tubbo, we heard the ding,”

“You know in the outside world it’s seven thirty-six- oh, now seven-thirty seven, now seven thirty-eight-”

“Both of you quiet down, we have a guest,” Wilbur says.

Tommy and Tubbo look up at Punz.

“Oh, he’s the former torturer, in’t he?” Tommy asks.

“Tommy,” Tubbo whispers, “That’s rude.”

“What? He used to be pretty high ranking, right? What, what?” Tommy asks. 

“Go ring the golem, you cretins. Shoo,” Wilbur says.

Tommy and Tubbo groan, retreating through the door they came from. They return with a small clay figure that hobbles over with a tray, small gems lodged into its skin. It sounds of heavy thuds and scraping, vines draping around its body. Wilbur claps his hands and pulls out his leather wingback chair.

“Dinner, boys. Oh, and Punnozseth? You don’t need to keep up that flesh at my table. You’re welcome here as you are.”

He stretches out and feels a weight lifted off his shoulders as his form shifts to something more comfortable. He watches Tommy and Tubbo, both unapologetically paranormal and free, and wonders what that must be like- life in a world where you never have to hide. A place where children can be children, regardless of their descent.

The envy and melancholy sits on his chest the rest of the night, his conscious both happy there’s a better future for young supernaturals and envious he never got one. It’s different as a demon, he guesses. He was one of the fallen; there was never any hope for something better. You fucking suck. These kids are able to live authentically as themselves and all you can do is whine about how bad you had it? Grow the fuck up, man.

He won’t let his nagging inner monologue ruin this. No, he’s going to eat dinner with his friend and be glad he’s able to be here at all. He’s going to shut up and nod when Wilbur calls him by that name, the one that hurts him.

Once their plates are cleared and the kids have gone to study their magick, Wilbur and Punz sit nursing their liquor from across the table.

“So. How has being a demon treated you, friend?” Wilbur slurs.

“How has your condition treated _you_?” Punz says back, slightly irritated.

Wilbur narrows his eyes.

“Fair. Was just a question, though.”

“Yeah, it always is. Calling me my old name is just a name, isn’t it?”

Again, Wilbur shrugs off his remark. “It’s your real name. I’m not wrong in doing so.”

“Tch, of course. Ever the fucking pietist. You know what that does to me. You just don’t care.”

“The effect is negligible, don’t be such a-”

“Such a what?” Punz yells, getting out of his chair. “Pussy? Sensitive fuck? Someone who spends his entire life in restraint, haunted by the horrible shit he’s done, and then, when he thinks he’s found a group of people like him, one of those assholes calls him by his demon name and doesn’t give a shit about how it makes him feel?”

The air hangs silent for what feels like an eternity.

Wilbur stares, deadpan while Punz catches his breath. That all came out at once, and now he can’t take it back. You know what? He doesn’t want to.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for you to do that?” Wilbur asks.

What?

Wilbur sets down his glass and takes a deep inhale.

“Punz, you spend so much time restraining, so much time being quiet. For a hotheaded prick, you really let me push your buttons without saying a damn word. I get so tired of waiting, you know?”

“You fucking- you fucking piece of shit, I swear to god, if you think this was some sort of great masterplan to get me ‘out of my shell’ when I work so hard to keep myself in check, you think this is a joke? I, fuck, fucking,” Punz stammers.

“I think I accomplished what I wanted. Only took what, a few years? You have a serious getting-out-of-your-head problem,” Wilbur replies.

“You’re such an asshole."

"Perhaps, but I'm not stupid. And neither are you. It felt good, didn't it? Letting go?"

_It felt-_

"Thank you for dinner. I should get going," Punz says.

"Oh well. Until next time, Punz. Do visit again soon," Wilbur says.

“Yeah. Right.”

He promptly turns and walks out the door, his frustrated footsteps echoing in the main chamber. Wilbur doesn’t follow after him, but he can feel his smug eyes boring into his back. He gained some insight into his predicament, so he’ll take whatever win he can and leave.

Punz folds up his wings and hisses as his features shrink back to normal, 'human' once again by the time he makes it back through the gate. The foreign feeling subsides as he returns to the world he's used to.

By now, it's dark out. The early winter sun takes its place at the lip of the Earth, telling all on its surface here to begin winding down. Punz figures he should go home and lay down, if not to sleep, then to rest.

As he makes his way down the fire escape, his phone vibrates in his pocket. He sits on the curb in this small, cloistered alleyway.

Hearing George’s voice is comforting. Having to lie to him is not.

The worry in his friend's voice is brushed off with the promise that he'll fix this, he'll come clean and everything will be okay. Punz repeats that like a mantra in his head.

He thought he'd be more bothered by Karl meeting one of them. If anything, he wonders if it's too late to take back his decision. That can be sorted out later, right now he needs to get home before the city nightlife begins- He’d rather not visit Rebel’s twice in one day.

Back at home, the emptiness almost mocks him. Having George over is nice, but always followed by the eventual silence. Punz never fails to take his presence for granted; now he’s left to face the stillness by himself.

He faces everything by himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More than halfway done now :)  
> Thank you for your patience.


End file.
